


Faith Walks On Broken Glass

by SunnyBot



Series: Renegades [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Bullying, Canon is thrown out the goddamn window, Deception, Disability, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Haphephobia, Holoforms (Transformers), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Mama Starscream is sick of Megatron's bullshit, Megatron Silas and Airachnid are all horrible but Primus isn't any better, Mental Breakdown, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Outliers (Transformers), Physical Abuse, Redemption, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Soundwave is a single mother of four, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Temporary Character Death, Transformer Sparklings, Unethical Experimentation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-07 12:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyBot/pseuds/SunnyBot
Summary: Rev-Tune knew this would never work out for them. Nothing ever did. Nighthawk was only going to use them. Big deal. They'd been used before. Megatron would kill them if he found out. So what? It wouldn't be the first time they'd been beaten. Their parents, Knockout and Breakdown, would never forgive them. That... They'd deal with that later. So... why were they doing this? Truthfully, Rev-Tune wasn't quite sure. Maybe they just wanted something to live for. Or... Maybe they just wanted a distraction from the pain.
Relationships: Breakdown/Knock Out, Megatron/Orion Pax, Megatron/Starscream (Transformers), Other Relationships, Rev-Tune (OC)/Nighthawk (OC)
Series: Renegades [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546849
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. 21 Guns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what's worth fighting for
> 
> When it's not worth dying for?
> 
> Does it take your breath away
> 
> And you feel yourself suffocating?
> 
> Does the pain weigh out the pride?
> 
> And you look for a place to hide?
> 
> Did someone break your heart inside?
> 
> You're in ruins
> 
> \- Green Day, 21 guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 3/28/20
> 
> Hey everybody! We're all quarantined, so I'm just going through here and editing the current chapters to fix some issues I had with them!
> 
> Warnings for the Chapter: Graphic depictions of violence, Gore, Implications ofabuse, Vulgar language, Minor character death. If ANY of these things are triggering to you, PLEASE, do not force yourself to read this chapter. I do not condone abuse, bullying, or violence, or self deprecation.

A young Decepticon stood alone in the corridors of the Nemesis, leaning against the wall as they clutched their mangled, energon-stained arm in their servo, muttering as they fidgeted with the shattered remains of a dark-red-tinted visor between their digits. Taking a moment to examine the damage, they slowly lifted a loose piece of their clunky fractured armor, lightly prodding into the torn mesh beneath it before recoiling in pain as energon spurted out of the wound, staining their indigo chestplate.

It wasn't the first time Rev-Tune had gotten jumped by another con. _Nor would it be the last_.

As usual, it had been nothing more than a harmless prank, switching out Makeshift's stash of high grade for a vile-tasting human drink. They didn’t remember what it was called, (something in french?) but they _did_ remember that it was some sort of water that had been infused with carbonate, like a soda, except all the good had been sucked out of it.

Truthfully, Rev-Tune wasn't quite sure why today's prank had required such a harsh beating in retaliation. Generally, Revs would have gone for something a bit more... _destructive_, like rigging a paint bomb in his rations, or infecting his personal datapad with a virus that would play "Caramelldansen" nonstop until he'd smash the damn thing or tear his audials out. And yet today they had only caused him a minor inconvenience, and he had returned the favor by twisting their arm- their bad arm, which their mother had JUST performed another reconstructive surgery on, DAMNIT- and then pummeling them until they were half dead. Don't get them wrong, beatings and belittlement were always expected when Rev-Tune played tricks around the Nemesis (and even when they didn't, but they were..._ pretty sure_ they always did something to deserve it...), though they couldn't help but feel today Makeshift had been... _needlessly cruel_.

The thought was surprising, almost hilariously so. For the first time in years, Rev-Tune couldn't quite justify the violence committed against them.

Slowly, Rev-Tune dragged their aching frame towards the med bay, muttering under their breath as their arm singed with pain in every movement, their servo slowly getting soaked with their own energon. Too lost within the pain to focus for much longer, they fell, fully expecting to hit the floor, only to slam into something tall and sturdy. A strong, gentle grasp lifted them from their crumpled position, and a tired panic began to well up inside them.

Their vision faded for a moment as a clawed digit wiped the a bit of the energon off their cheek, and their vision returned once more to reveal the form of the tall, sturdily built seeker who had saved them.

It wasn't really something they would have liked to admit, but if you asked them, Rev-Tune would have described her as being terrifyingly beautiful. It was as if Primus himself had molded her, taking all the strength and vigor of Megatron, and all the grace and charisma of Starscream, and melding it into a silver and black frame, complete with eye-catching violet accents and alluring deep red optics. A wry smirk spread across her face as she stared deeply into Rev-Tune's optics, her shining fangs giving way to a dastardly smile. 

Revs wasn’t sure if it was a genuine sense of lust, or if it was merely the energon loss getting to them, but if given the chance at that very moment, they could sink into her gaze, and lose themself within forever. 

The world around them went dark as they lost consciousness, shutting their optics as they felt themself being carried away, as they were merely a weightless speck in the air. The last thing they heard was the angelic femme’s smooth, cold voice as their vision faded out once more and the world around them finally dissapeared. 

_ "What in Unicron's name did you do THIS time?" _

-

Nighthawk marched silently towards the brig, Rev-Tune's energon still wet on her chassis. 

Something was wrong. Her mission was supposed to last for another decade at least, and yet here she was, traversing through the Nemesis corridors to reach the ground bridge, the clicking of her heels echoing across the empty halls almost driving her insane. She was unsure of what she had been called in for, but she knew it had to be something big. 

In all her run cycle, regardless of how short it had been compared to her peers, she had never had a mission cut short, for ANY reason.

Nighthawk was finally jerked away from her thoughts when she had been pulled back by a hard grasp on her arm. Assuming it was a vehicon, or more precisely, Rev-Tune's "friend", Steve ,_(why in fuck's name had he not DIED already?)_, she had turned around, fully prepared to give the con a chewing out of a lifetime, only to cool when she was met with the face, (or rather, _the lack thereof,)_ of Soundwave.

“My apologies, Brother.” She said as she pulled her arm from his grasp. “ I had not expected to see you, so I assumed you were a vehicon, and I nearly started screaming at you for it.”

He jolted as she stepped forward, before pointing to the dried energon on her frame as if to ask, '_What the hell is that???'. _

"Oh, this. I had to carry Revs to the medbay because the poor soul had passed out half-dead in the halls." She fell silent for a moment before asking, "Has Rev-Tune been getting jumped again?"

Soundwave nodded as he gave Nighthawk a pat on the shoulder, as if to give her some form of reassurance, even if it the attempt was fleeting. Unable to endure the uncomfortable silence any longer, Nighthawk cleared her throat.

“May I inquire what it is you require my audience for? 

He gave a startled whir, before playing the sound of a bus coming to a stop and opening its doors. Nighthawk sighed.

“I appreciate your concern, Brother, but you have no need to request a groundbridge for me. I can find it myself.”

Soundwave shook his head and played back the sound of something angry and squawking, and if Nighthawk didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that it was some sort of deranged bird, rather than the voice of a flamboyantly angry mech.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll allow you to assist me.” she replied jovially, “But _only_ because my mother requested it.”

-

Rev-Tune woke up on a slab in the med bay, their mind buzzing, and their frame in excruciating pain. Slowly, they had attempted to lift themself off of the table before they were forced back down by an angry mech with a shiny red frame and a death stare only a mother (or perhaps, _a teacher_) could have. Next to him was a much larger, boxier blue frame with a look of deep concern on his face. Revs looked up weakly at the two mechs, before giving him a nervous smile.

“_Hi…_ Mom and Dad.”

“Hello Sweetie,” Knockout replied, “Do you mind if I ask_ what the fuck happened to your arm_?”

“I got into a fight.” Revs said, half lying.

“You did?!” Breakdown gasped, almost bouncing on his heels from excitement, “Who’d you fight? Did you win?_ Please_ tell me you won!”

“_NOT_ helping.”, The doctor groaned before turning back to his sparkling, unleashing the mommy/teacher death stare upon them once again.

“So tell me, Sweetie,_ who exactly_ did you get into a fight with?”

Rev-Tune fell silent for a moment.

Their mom wanted to spill some energon. Slag.

If they didn't want to get caught lying, they'd need a scapegoat. Double slag. 

Rev-Tune sighed, fidgeting with their antenae as they tried to calm down. 

_ **Okay Revs, you little bastard. You can't say "Makeshift" cuz he'll gloat, and then Mom and Dad are gonna find out how much of a pussy you really are. But you can't say any of the Vehicons either, cuz you actually LIKE the vehicons, and you don't want them to die-** _

Revs paused for a moment, a light smirk making it's way across their faceplates as they finally decided on their scapegoat.

_ **Well, he DOES owe me. And besides, he's been itching to get a flier frame for a while now. He might just get lucky this time!** _

“It was- Uh, Steve! I had a fight with Steve!”

“Woah, you fought Steve! How did it go? Did you win-”

“Breakdown! _NOT HELPING_!”

Knockout turned back to Rev-Tune, his expression cold and unamused. 

“Forgive me for leaving so soon child, but it seems I’ve forgotten a- _routine inspection_. Be a good little spark and wait here with your father for me, won't you?

Rev-Tune nodded, and he left the med bay with a satisfied hum.

The moment the doors closed behind him, Breakdown turned towards Revs, anticipation clear on his face and asked once again, 

“_So did you win_?”

Not wanting to disappoint their father, Revs sighed before nodding. In response, Breakdown happily punched to air and affectionately slugged them on their bad arm. Ow. 

“Ha, Keep at it Squirt! One of these days you’re gonna_ destroy Bulkhead’s fucking aft_!”

-

Nighthawk hastily stepped out of the bridge and into the mine, absentmindedly trying to wipe the energon stains off of her chassis. She turned to greet Starscream, and was shocked to find not just her mother waiting there for her, _but father there as well._

They were bickering like they always had, Starscream’s defensive squawking managing to compete with Megatron’s angry roars. In front of them was an autobot with a red frame and a pair of horns protruding from the sides of his head. Cliffjumper, she thought his name was, looked just about ready to dropkick either one of them, the only things holding him back being his restraints.

Silently, Nighthawk sauntered towards them, rehearsing what she was planning to say in her head until she was close enough for them to hear. 

“WHY IN THE NAME OF UNICRON HAVE YOU _LET HIM LIVE_ THUS FAR?!!!”

“I’VE TOLD YOU LORD MEGATRON, _NIGHTHAWK_ IS THE INTEROGATION’S OFFICER AND EXECUTIONER, IT IS _HER_ DUTY TO-”

Nighthawk cleared her throat, and the two bickering mechs turned to her silently, while the beaten autobot gave her a tired sideways glance. 

“I apologise for my tardiness My Lord, My Commander. There was…” She looked towards her energon-stained hand and winced in a horrified disgust. “..._Something else_ I needed to attend to.”

“Officer Nighthawk, so glad you could join us!” Megatron replied as he stepped forward.

Nighthawk bowed towards her father, attempting to be as presentable as possible despite the energon stains. 

“I only live to please you, My Lord.”

“And yet, you fail to do even that.”he huffed as he walked right past her. “You know what to do. _Kill him._”

“What?”

“_You heard me_.” Megatron replied, “Kill him!”

Nighthawk froze. That wasn’t what she had been trained to do. Even if it was what her father wanted, surely he could see the flaws within his plan-_ right?_

Unsure of what to do, she merely shook her head and replied, “That’s not what I was trained to do.”

“You said it yourself. You only live to please. I would be pleased if you disposed of him now.”

“My Lord, I may be the Executioner, but I am still the Interrogations Officer! He could have valuable information and if we just kill him-”

“I don’t care. Either you kill him_ now_, or I do it myself.”

Nighthawk opened her mouth to speak, and before she could say anything, Megatron sighed, before turning to Cliffjumper and driving his servo into the autobot’s chest. Megatron twisted into the mech’s spark chamber, before ripping through his side and releasing his grasp on the greying corpse. 

The young officer stared down at the autobot’s dilapidated corpse, his innards and internal wiring splayed out on the ground, some still twitching and writhing with a sickening squelch like something severed from an organic creature’s body that refused to move. Nighthawk felt her tank twist and squeeze as the violent motions and gruesome sounds of his parts finally died down, but she couldn’t bring herself to look way. She continued to stare silently at the lifeless frame, not realizing how violently she was shaking, 

There was only one word that came to mind after watching Cliffjumper die. 

** _Unfair._ **

It was strange. After years and years of waiting to be worthy of Megatron’s army, the first time she had witnessed a violent death, an autobot’s death no less, it was ...unfair. It wasn’t the fact that she hadn’t been the one to kill him that felt unfair. In fact, Nighthawk was slightly relieved that she didn’t have to be the one to kill him, the thought of killing someone herself <strike>felt wrong</strike> made her queasy. No, it was the fact that he died that was unfair. Maybe it had been the helpless nature of his death, or maybe it had just come too soon, but Nighthawk just couldn’t shake the feeling that Cliffjumper’s death was unfair, and-

** _Oh fuck, I’m going to be sick!_ **

-

Soundwave watched as Nighthawk stumbled out of the ground bridge, struggling to keep her balance as she hugged her abdomen. He rushed to her side as she fell into the wall, and offered her his servo. Silently, she accepted it, and he supported her as he lead her to the med bay. 

He should have commed her when Megatron arrived. It wasn't uncommon for Nighthawk to return injured from her interactions with her father. He had hoped, no he had assumed that his early arrival would have made him more patient with her, though it seemed he had been mistaken. Though she had no visible injuries, it wasn’t hard to tell that Nighthawk had been harmed in one way or another. She was shaking violently, looking as if she was going to start bringing up the half-digested oil and energon from her tank any second now, and Soundwave could swear that there was more energon, fresher energon, staining her chassis. 

Halfway to the med bay, Nighthawk dropped to her knees and began violently retching. Soundwave watched in silent horror as she continued to heave, excess optic lubricant running down her face as the fluids stained her frame.

** _Primus, what the fuck did he do???_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tell you what he did Soundwave! He's given your sister nausea and an existential crisis, that's what he's done!


	2. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring on the chill rain 
> 
> And we’ll go back in time 
> 
> Everything’s the same 
> 
> We’ve fallen into place 
> 
> Why does this keep happening 
> 
> Crashing down with the lightning 
> 
> Smash my heart into pieces and sing 
> 
> These moments fall apart 
> 
> We’ve walked this path before 
> 
> You’ve said your lines, now it’s 
> 
> Time to play my role once more 
> 
> And we’ll restart 
> 
> The cycle again 
> 
> And we’ll restart 
> 
> Breaking each other again 
> 
> -Deja Vu, CircusP/VocaCircus

Rev-Tune laid alone in their quarters, optics shut tight and the berth coverings over their head as their processor pounded in pain. The only thing keeping them from tearing their optics out was the fact that they were in too much pain to focus on making a convincing lie. It wasn’t the first time one of Rev-Tune’s physical defects rendered them berthriden and writhing in pain. _Nor would it be the last. _

Faintly through the pain they heard the sound of the door sliding open and shut, followed by a gentle clicking of heels. Revs cringed as they felt long, sharp fingers drag across their arm, a feeling of shame and disgust creeping through them before they sensed the presence slowly pulling away. For a moment, they almost believed that the presence was either gone, or that it was a paranoia induced hallucination. Either way, the near belief had done nothing to lessen the shock of the sharp pain that had been plunged into their arm- their bad arm- by the intruder.

Revs screamed in agony as they jerked away from their attacker and flailed off the berth. It was then that they had made the fatal mistake of tearing the covers off their face, amplifying the pounding anguish tenfold as their optics were flooded by light. 

To the average cybertronian, it would have appeared that the lights were dimmed, certainly not _pitch dark_, though not optimal for one to traverse through. But due to the _“unfortunate”_ circumstances of their birth, Rev-Tune could never even _hope_ to be the average cybertronian. Extreme light sensitivity to the degree in which they were afflicted was only _one_ of _many_ ailments Primus- _if they even existed_\- had cursed them with. 

Weakly, they backed up to a wall and shielded their eyes, shouting every horrible name in the archive before their legs buckled under them. Instead of the ground however, they were met with the assailant’s unwanted grasp. Instinctively, they kicked and punched and pushed as hard as they could to get away, a long buried dread choking them as they fought desperately to escape. Visions of nightmares Rev-tune had spent years battling to forget flashed in their mind as what little strength they had quickly faded, the excruciating light finally clearing away as their frame went limp and completely numb. They tried to scream, but all they could manage was a faint whimper before everything finally went black. 

-

Nighthawk sighed as Rev-Tune finally passed out in her arms, thankful she had taken a tranquilizer with her rather than dragging Revs back to the med bay. Rev-Tune had always been difficult to deal with when they were injured or in pain, and their deep-rooted fear of being touched had _never_ been helpful. There had been countless times where Nighthawk had been forced to call for assistance in restraining them, and countless more where they had ended up harming themself in their moments of desperate panic, leaving Nighthawk to calm Knockout and Breakdown whenever she brought in a frantic Rev-Tune that was stained in their own energon. The tranquilizer was something Knockout had developed for Revs only a few years prior, when he finally had enough of watching his “ precious little sparkling ” injure themself with something that could have been easily avoided. Only it wasn’t easily avoided. _Not when they couldn’t resist pissing off even the most fearsome of decepticons. _

Gingerly, Nighthawk laid their unconscious companion on the berth before untangling the sheet on the floor and covering them with it. She then placed a deep, ruby tinted visor on the berthside table, close enough for Revs to reach, but far enough to keep from being knocked off when they would eventually grasp blindly for it. Slowly she turned away to leave, but was stopped by a tight grasp on her servo. Sighing, she turned around to see the still passed out Rev-Tune unconsciously clinging to her servo like a scared sparkling, excess lubricant having welled up in their optics and begun to flow down their face as their ventilation became shallow and ragged. Unsure of what to do, Nighthawk quickly pulled her arm away before sprinting out of the room, something in their spark aching as they heard the sickly con whimper once more. It was too much.

She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t face them. _It was all just too much._

-

Rev-Tune marched towards the ground bridge, face flushing a bright blue that was nearly visible under their new visor, their joints locking up and nearly seizing from rage. First they had been beaten within mere inches of their life over some high grade, then they were attacked in their own quarters while their vision was still compromised, and to top it all off, no one had bothered to inform them that _Nighthawk_ had come back early. There was no way in hell this day could get any worse. _No possible way_. 

Until it did, and she came trailing behind them. Nighthawk was silent as she followed them down the corridors, and yet there was something emanating from her presence, a tension so palpable Revs was almost choking on it. Unable to stand the painful silence anymore, Revs finally turned towards their unwanted companion, ready to give her a piece of their processor when the words were crushed in their throat by what could only be described as a stroke of _pity_.

She looked absolutely horrible, frame scratched and stained with crusty, dried energon, wings drooping like a caged bird that was ashamed for singing the wrong tune, and her expression laced with enough misery and exhaustion to make Soundwave break his vow of silence. The lights in her optics had become dim, replacing the usual bright crimson shade with something near-lifeless and dull. It appeared as if she had not recharged in days, or weeks for that matter. It was so disconcerting Rev-Tune nearly jumped out of their plating when Nighthawk finally spoke, their words sounding pained and unnatural, as if someone- _or something_\- had torn at their vocal processor. 

  
  


“You look like you have something to say, Rev-Tune. Go on, you can say it.”

  
  


“I-uh, no. I don’t. Not-not anymore.”

  
  


Rev-Tune swallowed thickly as they took a step back and adjusted their posture, their gold antennae sticking up long and tall on the sides of their head in a feeble attempt to make themself appear taller. They didn’t care if it only added a foot or two to their height. They needed to appear as strong as possible if they were ever going to do something they knew they would regret. 

  
  


“Are- are you okay?”

  
  


They shut their optics and flinched before they could get a response, fully expecting to be beaten or yelled at in response. Any compassion they had shown in the past had always been turned against them after all, _how would this be any different_?

The few seconds of terrifying silence lasted an eternity as they awaited the familiar blow of fists or of cruel words, but the eternity was soon broken by the sound of laughter. 

Revs cautiously opened their optics to find Nighthawk, disheveled as hell, and yet laughing as if she had just single handedly won the war.

“Oh, _Primus_!”, She finally managed to say, “I must look simply abhorrent if even the likes of _YOU_ are concerned about me-hahaha!!”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

  
  


Nighthawk wiped the excess lubricant from their optics as their laughter finally died down.

  
  


“Why my dear Rev-Tune, it merely means that you are usually unforthcoming and standoffish! If it weren’t for you bastardly nature, I would assume you were completely _non gregarious_!”

  
  


Rev-Tune groaned, already sick of Nighthawk’s pompously overblown vocabulary.

  
  


“Just tell me why the hell you look like you were upchucked by a predacon and why you were following me like goddamn duckling,_ OKAY_?!”

  
  


Revs felt a sharp pain in their spark as they watched Nighthawk return to her miserable demeanor, wings quickly drooping behind her once more.

  
  


“Oh. My deepest apologies Rev-Tune, It’s just that…” Nighthawk stared down at her servos as she fidgeted nervously. “My father has placed me under a probationary period due to my apparent incompetence and I’ve found myself with nothing to do, so I was wondering if…” 

  
  


Nighthawk threw her head back and sighed before she continued, nearly the spitting image of her mother as her wings twitched with an emotion Rev-Tune couldn’t quite discern. 

  
  


“I was wondering if you wanted to have a drink at the bar! In the mess hall… _With me_.”

  
  


Rev-Tune could only blink in response. Was this a trick? Of course it was. _It had to be_. No one with half a processor would ever want to hang out with a defective screw up like them. _Revs had learned that the hard way._

  
  


“_Why me_?”, Revs finally asked, their voice cold and leery, “Don’t you already have _Soundwave_ to hang out with? 

“Soundwave is um… busy with a human prisoner at the moment. And before you ask, NO,_ you don’t get to meet him_.” 

“And out of all the other cons on this ship, why of all people would you ask _me_?”

“We’re the only two sparklings that have survived in our generation. I know we haven’t had _the best_ history, but I’d like to think we have something in common!” 

  
  


Rev-Tune crossed their arms as they chuckled at the grossly surgarcoated statement.

  
  


“So what you’re saying is that you wanna play nice with me because you’ve got nothing better to do, is that it?”

  
  


A deep blue flush bloomed on Nighthawk’s cheeks as she began to sputter apologies about impoliteness and other nonesense. Rev-tune gave a faint smile as her fidgeting became more nervous and sporatic, the way she would as a sparkling when she was caught doing something wrong. Rev-Tune missed those days, back when Nighthawk was shy and sweet, and she loved their jokes and games, back when the war was a grownup issue and when Revs’s tiny body was somehow able to sustain it’s defects without medication or aid. Absentmindedly, Rev-tune slowly traced the outline of their visor with their digit, a phantom pain trailing down their spine as they faintly recalled how excited they had both been to get their first round of upgrades, and to finally begin their training to become fully-fledged decepticons. 

**_ Why did everything have to fall apart? Why did everything have to go so wrong?_ **

Rev-Tune’s reminiscing had been cut short by the realization that the seeker before them was drawing closer, an expression of concern on her face as her servo drew nearer. Unsure of what to do, they quickly blurted out their own apology as they felt the heat rising in their faceplate. 

  
  


“Y-you don’t hafta apologise! Sorry for worrying ya, I was just thinking a little too hard is all.” 

They thought for a moment before they found their words.

“You know what? I could go for a drink too! There’s no harm in trying out this friend thing, right?”

  
  


Nighthawk lit up with an excitement Revs hadn’t seen since they were sparklings.

  
  


“Are you certain? You would do that for me?!”

“Why not? Could be fun!”

  
  


The seeker’s wings fluttered happily as she grabbed Rev-tune’s servo and began dragging them to the mess hall. Rev-tune couldn’t help but giggle as their companion nearly skipped down the halls, but as they drew nearer to their destination, they began to feel an odd tension in their tanks, almost as if their body was trying to warn them of something bound to go wrong. 

They pushed the feeling aside, too attached to the prospect of nostalgia to pass up the opportunity. 

Everything was gonna be fine!

...Right?

  
**** <strike></strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Revs, I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that you won't be doing anything to mess things up! The bad news is that things are going to go wrong. Very, very wrong. And there's unfortunately not much you can do about it.


	3. Build God, Then We'll Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's these substandard motels
> 
> On the corner of 4th and Freemont Street
> 
> Appealing, only because they're just that unappealing
> 
> Any practiced Catholic would cross themselves upon entering
> 
> The rooms have a hint of asbestos
> 
> And maybe just a dash of formaldehyde
> 
> And the habit of decomposing right before your very eyes
> 
> Along with the people inside
> 
> What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
> 
> Inside, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy
> 
> There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses
> 
> It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
> 
> At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
> 
> And a few more of your least favorite things
> 
> Raindrops on roses and the girls in white dresses
> 
> And the sleeping with the roaches and the taking best guesses
> 
> At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
> 
> And a few more of your least favorite things
> 
> \- "Build God, Then We'll Talk", Panic! At The Disco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I made it obvious enough when Soundwave is using an audioclip! Also, Nighthawk is fluent in French.
> 
> Just a warning, but this chapter contains non-consentual drug use, attempted murder through overdose, implications of previous character death, and a brief reference to a past sexual assault on a minor. If any of this squicks or triggers you, please feel free to skip this chapter! I do not condone the use of drugs to inflict harm upon someone else, and I especially do not condone the sexual abuse of a minor. If reading this fic upsets you and makes you uncomfortable, no one's forcing you to read it! I have warnings on here for a reason, so please take care of yourselves and avoid the things that squick or trigger you! Thank you!
> 
> My tumblr is @sunnythebot, in case you want to follow me or ask questions about my OCs or my AU.

Rev-Tune stared at Nighthawk in disbelief, their intake agape as their companion recounted the events of they previous few days, nearly convinced that the young seeker had somehow grown a wild imagination during the three years that she had been away. There was no way Megatron could have been so needlessly reckless._ No fucking way_.

  
  


“Okay ‘Hawk, you’ve got to be pulling my peds here!”

“Oh darling, I am dead serious!”

“You having saved me, and the tranquilizer having knocked me a few days longer than I thought? That’s fuckin’ plausable. Easy to believe. Your dad _snorting space crack_ and deciding he wants to raise _the goddamn dead_? That’s… That’s _Unicron levels_, that’s so damn crazy!”

Nighthawk chuckled as she took another sip of her drink. The two had been giggling in the mess hall as they sipped their low-grade for a few hours now, not caring enough to acknowledge the judging stares and hushed whispers of the vehicons.

  
  


“You are aware of how much my father admires Unicron. He would be pursuing to_ fornicate with him_ if it weren’t for his tenatiously rage-fueled infatuation for_ Optimus Prime!_”, Nighthawk replied cheerfully, before her laughter cut off abruptly and her expression shifted to something indiscernable.

“Would-”, She began, her voice returning to the weariness of hours before, “Would the war even be happening if Optimus Prime and my father had never… _if their son was…_”

  
  


Nighthawk sighed as before she was finally able to muster her words. 

  
  


“_Would my father be happier if Leonis had been the sparkling that lived, and I was the one that died?_”

  
  


Rev-Tune felt their spark sting as they watched the joy drain from their companion’s face, her pained words tearing at them like knifes on their soul. Hesitantly, they reached out, hoping to comfort her, before quickly drawing back as a familiar pain ached in their bad arm, and their processor was flooded with agonizing memories. Unable to stand the visions a moment longer, Revs quickly downed the rest of their drink, trying their best to mask their panic as their ventilation became sharp and ragged. Within a few moments, their visions finally faded and were replaced by a mild buzzing sensation. Revs sighed in relief as the memories left them, and their relief was only amplified when they turned to find Nighthawk still starting at her drink, unmoving as if she hadn’t noticed them nearly going into a full blown panic. Finally as they calmed themself down, they opted to comfort Nighthawk with words rather than physical contact.

  
  


“It ain’t your fault, ‘Hawks. He died before you were even conceived. There’s nothing you could have done.”

  
  


Nighthawk nodded as she took a long swig from her drink. She sighed as she placed it down once more, silent for a moment before she finally responded.

  
  


“I-I am aware. My mother and my brother have told me that countless times already. It-it just-” The seeker threw her servos up in what appeared to be an odd display of frustration. “_It doesn't help!_ I have spent my entire life watching my father grieve for his lost child, constantly being reminded of that I will never be as good as my half-brother, and it makes me feel- things _I shouldn’t feel towards my father!_ Things that are _bad_ and _wrong_ for a sparkling to feel towards their sire, hatred a subordinate should _never_ feel towards superior, and I just…”

  
  


Revs tensed as Nighthawk shook violently, tears welling up in her optics. Unsure of what to do, they watched for a few excruciatingly long moments before they could finally speak.

  
  


“You know what? We should prolly go somewhere else. I think we’ve had enough to drink. Maybe one of our quarters…?

  
  


Nighthawk nodded, reaching out to take their servo. Revs jerked away slightly, trying their best to shove their visions back into the depths of their processor before forcing themself to take it, using every ounce of control in their spark to stop their frame from shaking. Wearily, they lead Nighthawk back through the corridors of the Nemesis, taking note of their companion’s odd staggering as they made their way to the ship’s habitation wing. 

  
  


_ “How the hell is she drunk?” _ , Rev-Tune muttered to themself in a petty attempt to distract themself the alarms blaring in their processor that begged them to shove the seeker away and leave her to become a vehicon’s problem, “ _ I know seekers have low tolerance and all, but it was just a few cubes! Not to mention it was the farthest damn thing from high grade…” _

Carefully the smaller mech guided the drunken seeker towards her habsuite, not wanting to risk any possible rumor or scandal that would have come from taking her to their own quarters. Rev-Tune paused for a moment before turning to the wall facing the opening of the corridor where they knew a camera was hidden and waved at it, acknowledging the mech peering through and assuring him that they had no ill intentions.

Revs was many things, unloyal, spiteful, useless, a defective bastard, and an utter failure just to name a few, but they would damned if they ever took advantage of someone’s drunkeness to something unspeakable to them. The very notion of one abusing their temporary power over another mech to bypass consent was not only sickening to the wannabe scientist, but it was also happened to bring back some of their more… _repressed memories…_

**_“Oh Primus,”_** Rev-Tune thought as they brushed their free servo against their neck, shuddering slightly at the memory of the monster that had nearly destroyed them vorns ago, _**“I can still feel the damned eight legger on me.”**_

When they finally managed to drag the officer to her habsuite and ushered her inside, Rev-tune turned to leave before a strong, spindly clawed servo tugged on their bad arm and yanked them inside before lifting them off the floor. The smaller mech yelped as the seeker brought them close and held them like a princess.

“Don’t leave yet!”, Nighthawk whined, intoxication ridding her of the signature sophistication in her voice, “I wanna talk some more!”

Revs squirmed in the seekers grasp, dreading the thought of being touched any longer then they had to be. Nighthawk only giggled in response, seemingly unaware that their companion was terrified. 

  
  


“Nighthawk, let go!” Rev-Tune yelled as they tried desperately to shove her away.

“_No~_”

“Let me go!”

“_I won’t._”

“_PLEASE!_”

“_Je ne veux pas._”

  
  


Revs continued to beg as they struggled to force the seeker to let them go, panic setting in as their ventilations became ragged and tears streamed down their face. It was only did they began shaking and sobbing did Nighthawk seem to take notice of their distress. Gingerly, she set them down on the berth, wiping away their tears with her thumb and staring at it before crumpling on the floor and sputtering half-coherent apologies in every language she knew and then some.

Rev-Tune could only stare in disbelief as the shock of being held for so long slowly subsided. There was no way in hell this could have been caused by a few cubes of lowgrade. Low tolerance or no, the only way anyone would have been this fucked up after some low grade would have been-

_ **Oh fuck.** _

Immediately, Revs slid off the berth and knelt down to Nighthawk, who was still crying and choking out apologies as if she had just single-handedly taken down the entirety of the Decepticon forces. Some sort of cybertronian equivalent to adrenaline making them momentarily forget their haphephobia, Rev-Tune grabbed the seeker by her shoulders and shook, instantly snapping her out of her crying spell.

  
  


“Hawks, I need you to listen closely, and answer as honestly as possible. Can you do that for me?”

  
  


Nighthawk nodded, trying her best to blink away her remaining tears.

  
  


“Did any of the drinks you had taste off to you? Salty, bitter-”

“Salty.”

“What?”

  
  


Nighthawk fidgeted with her claws for a moment, seemingly at a loss for what to do.

  
  


“M-my first drink. Taste-tasted salty. Didn’t like it, but- don-don’t like to be rude.”

  
  


Rev-Tune turned around and kicked the leg of the berth before punching it’s frame with their bad arm and shouting in a mixture of physical pain and deep frustration. 

  
  


“Fuck!!!”

  
  


They turned back to the seeker and they stuck their servo out as if they were expecting to be handed something.

  
  


“Give me your com-link.”

“Wha-”

“Give me your damn com-link or you could fucking die, do you understand me?!”

  
  


Hastily, she handed them her com-link, optics wide with a fear Rev-Tune had failed to recognize. 

  
  


“What’s wrong? A-am I in trouble?”

“No. But the disgusting fucker roofied your drink is gonna be.”

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


“I’m telling you Starscream, I ain’t the one that roofied Hawks’s drink!”

  
  


Soundwave watched as Starscream dug his claws deeper into the wall as he cornered Rev-Tune, the little twerp squirming in fear as they endured the full force of Starscream’s motherly rage. 

They had dragged Nighthawk into the medbay around an hour ago, claiming that she had been drugged while they were hanging out in the ships bar. With no other suspects and no one else to blame other then Rev-Tune, naturally Starscream assumed that they were the one who had tried to kill his sparkling, and now he was just about ready to start tearing into them. 

  
  


“Who else could it have been?!” He spat, “You were the only one with her in the bar! Now tell the truth _or I’m going to-_”

> “_-\\\I wouldn’t do that if I were you!\\\\-_”

  
  


Starscream whipped around almost instantly, optics burning with rage before he recomposed himself upon realizing that someone was watching.

** _Twerp’s lucky I’m here. Nighthawk wouldn’t be too happy if she found out that her carrier killed them._ **

  
  


“Ah, Soundwave! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  
  


Soundwave pointed towards Revs, their yellow antenae perking up in response.

  
  


> “_-\\\Innocent until proven guilty!\\\\-_”

  
  


Starscream sputtered in confusion, staring at the smaller mech for a few seconds before turning to Soundwave with his mount agape, as if to ask, ‘What the hell do you even mean?’ In response, Soundwave played a clip on the screen of his visor, showing Makeshift killing the vehicon who had been keeping the bar and assuming his form. The screen briefly went to static before footage from another camera was shown, revealing the vehicon imposter dumping an illegal substance into one of the drinks, pushing the tainted cube towards Rev-Tune, and seeming not to notice when Nighthawk had taken it instead. Soundwave turned off his screen and pointed towards the indigo twerp again. 

  
  


> “_-\\\Your Honor, my client is not guilty!\\\\-_”

  
  


Starscream glared at Revs, before sighing as he offered them his servo to help them up from their squished position in the corner. 

  
  


“I suppose I owe you an apology. I am…_ sorry._ The thought of my young spark dying before she would be able to make her rise to power and achieve her dream of impressing her sire was… _upsetting_, and I had jumped to conclusions.”

  
  


The seeker reset his vocalizer, his wings twitching in slight embarrassment.

  
  


“Rest assured, Makeshift’s machinations will not go unpunished. And- um… _Thank you_… for assisting Nighthawk despite your… _previous rivalry_ with her. It was.. Surprisingly honorable for you.”

  
  


Starscream placed an encouraging servo on Rev-Tune’s shoulder, not noticing the way they flinched slightly as he reached towards them.

  
  


“_I think you’ll make a fine doctor one day._”

  
  


He couldn’t quite tell with more than half their face covered underneath their gaudy visor, but Soundwave could have sworn the twerp was beaming at the validation of a superior officer. 

Starscream sauntered off without a word, feigning a neutral demeanor as his wings twitched in a mixture of anticipation and seething rage, more than ready to tear into the mech who had poisoned his sparkling. Rev-Tune still had a dorky grin plastered on their face when Soundwave finally stepped over, and it probably would have_ stayed_ plastered on their face if he hadn’t startled them with the sound of an airhorn.

  
  


“_Sounds!_”, they snapped, “The hell was that for?!”

  
  


Soundwave whirred in amusement before signing to them. 

  
  


“<Just trying to get your attention, twerp. Thanks for saving my little sister. Even if you hate her guts.>”

“Uh… _yeah_.” Revs stimmed for a bit before they could finally think of what to say. “I just hope Screamer kills that overgrown rust infection. That _bastard_ killed Gary just so he could roofie my drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like things are starting to clear up!
> 
> Or are they? ;)c


End file.
